An Education
by Gumnut
Summary: Some things can only be learnt the hard way.
1. The Lesson

The Lesson  
  
Part 1 of 'An Education'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
23 Jan 2004  
  
It dripped.  
  
Each silent drop forming slowly from the lowest point. Accumulating liquid protruding into a single round shining globule, enlarging until the gravity of the planet ripped it from its tenuous grip on his skin, causing it to plummet silently, a soft splash the only sound as it met the expanding pool beneath.  
  
Blood.  
  
A pool of blood.  
  
It welled around his knees, the joints bruised and bolted to the floor, his arms outstretched and hanging from the ceiling.  
  
He knelt in forced subservience, his breath shallow, his skin white. There was not much time left.  
  
But he could not give in.  
  
Not even for her.  
  
"You should know you are wasting your time. She, of all people, would know that." His voice had been reduced to a whisper.  
  
Eyes flashed in the dark, a body moved slightly in the shadows.  
  
"She knows you very well, Colonel. Very well." The familiar echo in the voice chilled him, and he swallowed before running his tongue across parched lips.  
  
She did. He knew it.   
  
But he also knew she would not want him to give in. She would never give up without a fight, and neither would he. He glared into the shadows. "You'll get nothing from me."  
  
The Goa'uld approached, a small, elegant knife glinting in the dull light, its hilt wrapped by skin encased in a hand device. Metal clinked against metal, echoing amused laughter.  
  
The cold steel of the blade trailed down the centre of his bare chest, snagging hair as it went, slipping on both sweat and blood.  
  
He shivered.  
  
The knife bit down, piercing skin.   
  
He swallowed the moan, but could not hide the gasp.  
  
Hot breath brushed his lips. "Who said I wanted anything from you."  
  
His eyes caught those of the creature in front of him, his heart suddenly realising the reason for his presence here. He resisted the urge to spit in the eyes of the damned animal, knowing it would not be it who suffered.  
  
"This is simply a lesson, Colonel. A lesson in futility. A lesson she desperately needs to learn."  
  
The knife was raised again, and Jack steeled himself, his body trembling in anticipation regardless of his attempts to still it.  
  
The Goa'uld looked down at him through Janet's eyes....and smiled.  
  
**********  
  
FIN. 


	2. The Learning

The Learning  
  
Part 2 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Lesson'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
24 Jan 2004  
  
Skin beneath her fingertips.  
  
Cold, clammy skin, damp, slick in places.   
  
Blood caked her fingernails.  
  
She was no virgin to gore, no faint heart beat in her chest, but as her fingers trailed across his skin, through his sweat, his blood, his faint trembling dancing against her nerves, she wanted to weep. She wanted to scream.  
  
She wanted to die.  
  
And she was denied it all.  
  
But she fought.  
  
Fingers and nerves that were no longer hers did as they wished. Her lips curved in a sensuous smile not of her making, her body moved against her will. The Goa'uld writhed in her neck, its pleasure echoing through the one movement wholly its own.  
  
She didn't even have the ability to shiver.  
  
Her hand teased his dry lips, and she was forced to look into his eyes. Hollowed out shards of pain-filled obsidian.  
  
It was right.  
  
She did know him well.  
  
Every wrinkle, every hair, every scar. She had fought for his life so many times, fought for him, fought with him. As he had returned through that gate bloody and broken, she had been there to catch him.  
  
She did know him well.  
  
And now she was here to break him.  
  
She could read the defiance in his wilted stance, the determination to survive, and, no doubt, save her himself.  
  
But his blood still dripped, his skin pale as a lingering death haunted him.  
  
She wanted to cry.  
  
But she fought.  
  
It took her other hand, the one wrapped in the hand device, and placed the knife back in its sheath at her waist. It obviously intended to switch pleasures, and she dreaded what something new might entail.  
  
It never spoke to her. It never even acknowledged her existence other than to taunt its victim with her presence. And she saw the pain in the Colonel's eyes, as her own stared down at him  
  
Her hand was raised, and she felt the rush of energy that lit the device.  
  
And the skin bubbled on the Colonel's forehead.  
  
His breathing reduced to laboured gasps, he struggled to hold his head up, his eyes searching her face.  
  
Words tumbled out of his mouth.  
  
"Don't worry, Doc. Everything will be fine."  
  
His eyes bore into hers.....and he smiled.  
  
**********  
  
FIN. 


	3. The Teacher

The Teacher  
  
Part 3 of 'An Education'  
  
A sequel to 'The Learning'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
26 Jan 2004  
  
Heat.  
  
Pain.  
  
Burning.  
  
The smell of his own flesh cooking under the wave of intense orange light, blinding him with its brilliance.  
  
But he could still see her eyes, and beyond the cruelty of the creature inhabiting her body, he knew she was there, and he smiled for her. They would get out of this, or he would die trying.  
  
More likely the latter at the moment, Jack.  
  
Oh, shut up.  
  
A frown wrinkled her brow, and as his vision finally began to waver, his mind faltering under the onslaught, her eyes lost contact with his own and the orange light cut off leaving a green afterimage dancing where it had been.  
  
She looked away.  
  
He took the moment to draw in a breath of the cool air, the chill of the concrete floor sucking the warmth from the room. The burn continued to sizzle on his forehead.  
  
Her body shuddered, and for a moment he thought she might walk away, but she didn't. Her shoulders straightened, and when she turned back to him, her eyes flashed white, a snarl of defiance on her face.  
  
"Having a little trouble are we?" He managed to force just the right amount of sarcastic lilt into his voice to draw her attention. "Not learning fast enough for ya, huh?"  
  
The Goa'uld moved so fast, he didn't have a chance to react. Her face was suddenly within an inch of his, her warm breath caressing his lips, the moisture in her brown eyes reflecting him in miniature. Her voice, raped by the Goa'uld's echo, sung a deadly whisper in his ears. "You are going to die, human."  
  
He stood his ground, refusing to flinch. "Perhaps." His eyes traced her face, the face of a friend held by an enemy. "But not today."  
  
With all the energy his depleted body could muster, he flung himself forward and head butted her between the eyes.  
  
She dropped like a stone.  
  
Swallowing pain as he lacerated the burn on his forehead, he closed his eyes, urging the world to stop spinning. Oh, god. He hung from his bindings taking a brief moment to orient himself, and pray he could get both himself and Janet out of this hell.  
  
Okay, O'Neill, obstacle number one - you're tied up like a turkey roast.  
  
He had spent every moment since awakening here working on the ropes holding his wrists. They were tight, but not tight enough to lose all hope, and his right hand was definitely looser now than it had been before. He worked it some more, stifling his own cry of pain as raw flesh rubbed against rough rope. The Goa'uld had trussed him up well, but there must have been a little Janet Fraiser fighting through when it did up the knots because after several more tugs, and a yelp as his wrist nearly separated, his hand slipped free.  
  
Pain shot through his shoulders, one at the break of freedom and the return of movement, the other taking the strain of the weight of his body.  
  
Oh, god.  
  
He had no time for self-pity. He was very familiar with the Goa'uld capability to repair the human body in half the time it would normally take. He had to move.  
  
Now.  
  
She still lay face down in front of him, the soft curl of her hair caught and floating in the pool of blood around his knees. A single drop had landed on her exposed cheek, the red stark against her pale skin. It reminded him abruptly that the Goa'uld clock was not the only timer he had to race against. His body was quite capable of giving out on him at any time.  
  
He reached out his one free arm. The knife was his only chance. It lay sheathed at her hip, he only had to reach out for it.  
  
Of course, nothing was ever that easy. He reached. And reached. His fingertips brushed the hilt. His over-strained back spasmed and he collapsed sideways.  
  
Goddamnit, O'Neill, this is your only chance. Do it or die.  
  
Straightening, he tried it again.  
  
Bone, muscle, every inch of height. His snared wrist howled at his mind as scabs were torn afresh, more blood ran down his arm.  
  
His fingertips snared the knife, and holding his breath he dragged it towards him.  
  
A flip of the wrist, knife in hand, the ropes binding him proved little obstacle. His body fell free.  
  
Fell being the operative word.  
  
Pain riddled him. Lacerations, bruises, stiff muscles long ignored, and a gaping hole in his side the obvious source of the majority of the blood on the floor, but it wasn't until he moved his legs that he realised there was something seriously wrong with his feet  
  
The gasp spat between his suddenly gritted teeth. Oh, shit, shit, shit. He coughed it out. He attempted to look down at his ankles. A brief impression of jagged bone was enough information. He was wearing no boots.  
  
He briefly rested his forehead on the cold floor. Oh, god, O'Neill, you have to get your ass out of here. Janet is depending on you.  
  
He eyed the staircase. It rose up into the ceiling cutting one wall in half along the way.  
  
There was no help but his own.  
  
***********  
  
Blood streaked across the cold concrete, telling the tale of his agony. He had made it inch by screaming inch to the bottom step of the stairs..  
  
The Goa'uld had yet to stir, and O'Neill was blessed with both worry and elation. It was good it hadn't awoken to put an end to his escape, but yet, what if he had seriously injured Janet, what if she was dying by his hand only a few feet from him.  
  
But he could not afford to chance returning to her. Too much depended upon his escape, and although no one ever gets left behind, he had to leave her here, there was nothing he could do for her, and he had to get help. Where was the rest of his team?  
  
His mind ran in circles, fuzzy with blood loss, but his aim remained clear.  
  
The stairs.  
  
**********  
  
Concrete had never been so cold, stairs never so steep. The rough edges of the stone grazed his skin and caught in his injuries. At several points the world threatened to fade and only his stubborn determination held consciousness in his grip.  
  
His fingers brushed the wood of the door at the top of his climb.  
  
The handle teased him from way beyond reach.  
  
Goddamnit, O'Neill!  
  
Yet again he reached. Blood sang in his ears and ran down his arm.  
  
His fingers smeared it all over the door handle.  
  
But they pulled the door open.  
  
It creaked quietly as he crawled through.  
  
Into a hallway.  
  
Carpet, the cheaper nylon variety, brushed his bare skin causing it to itch and irritate. Smiling faces decorated the walls, each looking at him as if asking him why he was bleeding all over their floor. One face stood out from all the others.  
  
He was in Janet's house.  
  
How?  
  
As he stared down the hallway, his vision blurring, one thought spun in his head.  
  
Janet was downstairs in the basement, a Goa'uld embedded in her spine.  
  
But there was one other inhabitant of this house.  
  
Where was Cassie?  
  
**********FIN. 


	4. The Taught

The Taught  
  
Part 4 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Teacher'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
1 Feb 2004  
  
It was cold and wet.  
  
It was sticky.  
  
It clotted in her hair, gluing her to the hard concrete floor.  
  
And it was red.  
  
Blood. Jack's blood. A pool of it extended out from where her head rested. Her eyelids stuck together, eyelashes caked and peeling away as they were forced open.  
  
Jack was gone.  
  
The discarded ropes ignited her hope, a jubilation that rushed through her stolen body like a shudder of pure pleasure. He had a chance. He had escaped.  
  
She might not have to kill him after all.  
  
Hope gave her energy. Where there had been despair, there was now determination. She had fought, but now she waged war, flinging herself into the battle for her own mind with everything she had. The bastard Goa'uld no longer held a hostage against her.  
  
God, she hoped he was far away.  
  
The Goa'uld fought back.  
  
It was merciless.  
  
It took each piece of that which made her herself and crushed it against the power of its own intellect. She was nothing. Nothing but muscle and bone, a vessel bred for one purpose only. As far as it was concerned, she as an entity did not exist, and her body was its own.  
  
She fought nonetheless.  
  
The heat began in her toes, travelling up her legs, her spine, her neck, a wave of intensity that finally focused on her eyes. The flash of white light reflected off the pool of red.  
  
She lost.  
  
Her body moved, taking her with it. The ache of the bruise on her forehead disappearing as it stood.  
  
Jack was gone.  
  
But unfortunately he hadn't gone far enough.  
  
The sound of a voice at the top of the staircase caused the Goa'uld to turn in that direction. The trail of blood told its tale.  
  
Oh, Jack.  
  
Her body moved to follow, stealth itself in the silence.  
  
She heard his voice. And another.  
  
Oh, god, please no.  
  
She struggled still further, desperate to cry out a warning.  
  
Yet again she failed.  
  
Her eyes caught sight of a pair of familiar legs at the top still dangling through the open door, their mangled agony all too apparent.  
  
No, no, no, nonononononooooooo......  
  
The Goa'uld climbed the stairs.  
  
***********  
  
FIN. 


	5. The Exam

The Exam  
  
Part 5 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Taught'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
3 Feb 2004  
  
"Uncle Jack?"  
  
The voice drew him from a vagueness that had slipped up upon him unawares. His head ached, his body ached. Yet there was something.....  
  
"Uncle Jack? Please wake up." The voice was sobbing, urgent, there was something.....  
  
Oh, god.  
  
His head came up abruptly and he gasped. His eyesight blurred and rotated as if his brain had been shoved down a kaleidoscope. "Cassie?"   
  
"Uncle Jack!" A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
His eyes finally focused revealing Cassie Fraiser dressed in her school uniform, her bag still strapped to her back, tears running down her face. "R-Ring General Ham-mond." His voice was little more than a whisper, and the effort left him gasping.  
  
"I have. First thing I did when I saw you were hurt. Sam's coming, they're all coming. They'll be here soon." There was a silence, and he frowned almost knowing the next question. "Where's Mom?" The tremor in her voice illustrated her fears.  
  
He managed to raise a hand and grabbed her arm. "C-Cassie, I want you to leave. Go to a friend's house, somewhere safe, away from here."  
  
"Where's Mom?"  
  
"Cassie, please, hurry, for me, please." He attempted to push her away from him.  
  
She resisted.  
  
"Uncle Jack, you're hurt. Mom has first aid supplies, at least I can help you."  
  
"Cassie, go NOW!" He put everything he had into the strongest command tone he could pull off. She flinched, but stood up and turned to leave.  
  
She was too late.  
  
Someone came up the stairs behind him. And it could only be one person.  
  
"Mom?" Cassie's eyes widened, worry flickering in their depths only to be replaced by utter terror. Jack couldn't see the Goa'uld, but could imagine its appearance, blood coating half its face - a benign face twisted into malevolence. He knew the moment Janet's eyes flashed their parasitic announcement, he could see it reflected in Cassie's.  
  
She turned and ran.  
  
She was too late.  
  
Everything was too late.  
  
A bolt of orange brilliance lit up the hallway as Cassie's body was picked up and thrown the length of it, falling in a crumpled broken heap, its silence a portent of her injury.  
  
"You bastard!" The scream was forced from him, the wave of pain it caused, ignored in his emotional agony. He couldn't let it at Cassie.  
  
Never.  
  
It moved, making its way past him. He caught a leg and wrenched. The Goa'uld fell. He desperately grappled with it, attempting to knock it out, subdue it, stall it, prevent it from reaching the girl who called him Uncle.  
  
He failed.  
  
He was just too weak, too disorientated to be effective. Something hard hit his head and the world spun, the parasite slipped from his grasp, and by the time his vision cleared, it was standing over Cassie.  
  
Its posture was stiff, its voice silent. Indecision hovered in the air.  
  
For a moment he could see the internal struggle being fought inside Janet. Her daughter was at her feet, a monster forcing her to cause harm.  
  
It looked back at him, smiling, its eyes solid white in declaration of the parasite's victory.  
  
No. No.  
  
It raised Janet's hand, the metal device sparkling in the sunshine reflected through a window.  
  
God, no.  
  
"Your death may not persuade her, but perhaps her daughter's will."  
  
"NO!!"  
  
It ignored him, turning its back in contempt. Orange light threw its form into silhouette.   
  
He struggled to move, to do something to prevent....  
  
The knife.  
  
He still had the knife.  
  
He reached under his useless body, catching the sticky handle in his fingers, and took one last look at his antagonist.  
  
No decision needed. Janet would want it this way.  
  
It was awkward, but necessity and desperation spurred on what little strength he had left. He raised his arm from off the floor, ignoring pain, ignoring everything, and threw the weapon, willing it to reach its target on his faith alone.  
  
The knife embedded itself between shoulder blades, and the Goa'uld spun in surprise, orange light vanishing. It stared at him, momentarily speechless, the white flashing in its eyes before fading away.  
  
Two words whispered past her lips, as brown eyes hung onto his. "Th-Thank you." And Janet Fraiser dropped like a stone.  
  
Jack let loose the breath he didn't know he had been holding, and it came out as a sob. He dropped his head onto his arm and wished the world away.  
  
It went.  
  
**********  
  
FIN. 


	6. The Results

The Results  
  
Part 6 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Exam'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
4 Feb 2004  
  
It was the hum in her blood that woke her. It danced and sung, vibrating against her bones, setting the hairs on the back of her neck up like soldiers on parade. Something was wrong.  
  
Very wrong.  
  
Something was rough against the skin of her cheek, and she opened her eyes to a view of carpet. Green carpet. A door. Her house.  
  
Her vision blurred and the image wavered. The ache in her head pounded behind her cheekbones as if her brain wanted out just so it could dance the Tarantella on the floorboards. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to focus. There was something wrong, and she had to do something about it.  
  
She opened her eyes again.  
  
Blood dripped onto the carpet.  
  
Her initial reaction brought her head up and away, causing the room to spin and the ache in her head to swell to gigantic proportions, but she found herself pinned under something, and it held her down. For a moment she panicked, struggling under the pliant weight.  
  
A hand dropped into sight.  
  
Oh god.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
The hum in her blood sang louder.  
  
Oh, god, the Goa'uld. There was a Goa'uld in her Mom.  
  
She struggled to get out from underneath her mother, and tried not to cry, but the tears ran freely. Uncle Jack was here somewhere, hurt probably dying. Mom wasn't very heavy, but Cassie found that her co-ordination was off, her head would not stop spinning, and her ears were full of the song in her bones.  
  
Something fell onto the carpet with a soft sigh.  
  
Something screeched.  
  
She froze.  
  
Turning her head slowly she was in time to see the slimy shape of the Goa'uld parasite rear up on itself, its black hide shimmering under a ragged coating of rapidly congealing blood and gore. It writhed like a snake, flexing its four fangs in the cool air, and the hum in her blood reached a crescendo, screaming in echo of the screeching death that dripped red on the carpet.  
  
Dead eyes caught hers, and time stopped.  
  
She knew she wouldn't be able to move fast enough. She knew there wasn't time. And she knew the Goa'uld knew too.  
  
It flexed its muscles, its body rippling in anticipation of the inevitable.  
  
Then it moved.  
  
And Cassandra Fraiser screamed.  
  
***********  
  
FIN. 


	7. The Penalty

The Penalty  
  
Part 7 of 'An Education'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
9 Feb 2004  
  
Pure terror woke him. An agonising scream of fear that shook him to the core. Through the haze of his mind, and the blur of his vision he was forced to look up.  
  
Forced to see.  
  
No.  
  
God, no.  
  
Nonononononononononoooooooooooooo...!  
  
It had her.  
  
It had slithered out of her mother and now it had her.  
  
The slimy black snake scum had wrapped itself around Cassie's neck, its lithe form, writhing back and forth in rapture, its eyes pinned on hers, taunting, tempting, threatening.  
  
Jack didn't think, he moved.  
  
No pain.  
  
There was no pain.  
  
He crawled. The distance long, his breath short.  
  
He was not fast enough.  
  
He did not have a chance.  
  
Cassie whimpered, struggling vainly as if hypnotised. The snake heard him, it's excuse for a head swivelling briefly in his direction.  
  
It needed no prompting. It took no chances.  
  
It took Cassie instead.  
  
Swift and surely, it whipped around and entered at the base of her neck.  
  
Blood spattered.  
  
Cassie didn't scream, her protest only voiced by a vain whimper choked out as her eyes caught his. They flashed once before she fell limp, her body taken from her.  
  
Cassie didn't need to scream.  
  
Because her uncle screamed for her.  
  
His hoarse cry echoed back at him from the walls, taunting him with its hopelessness. When he finally reached her, he was wracked with tremors, his hands shaking.  
  
Oh, god, Cassie. No.  
  
He touched her cheek, blinded by his own grief, beaten by his own exhaustion. Blood smeared on her pale skin.  
  
Her face smiled.  
  
Two eyes stared up at him, flickering with white fire.  
  
"Hello, Uncle Jack."  
  
**********  
  
FIN. 


	8. The Blood

The Blood  
  
Part 8 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Penalty'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
9 Apr 2004  
  
Cassie answered the door the moment Daniel raised his hand to knock. The young girl's eyes were swollen and red from crying, and she practically flew out of the door and into his arms, her hands gripping the material of his jacket as if her life depended upon it.  
  
Her body was trembling.  
  
Sam gave him a worried smile, caught by duty, and he smiled back in reassurance as she barrelled past him in search of her commanding officer, Teal'c, and an army of medics and SFs hard on her heels. Her sudden intake of breath alerted him to the fact they had discovered something. Daniel was almost reluctant to find out what.  
  
"Cassie?"  
  
The girl continued to cling to him, but he had to know. He pushed the swinging front door aside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness within.  
  
Sam and Teal'c huddled at the other end of the hallway, and the medics, unpacking equipment, were spouting off vital statistics. Sam had a phone to her ear and was practically yelling into it.  
  
There was blood on the carpet.  
  
A great deal of blood.  
  
Oh god, what had happened here?  
  
The General had only said that Cassie had rung and the Colonel was injured badly at Janet's home. They hadn't been able to jump into transport fast enough. Jack had been sent home on medical leave. He was supposed to be home, in bed, asleep. Why the hell was he here, and where was Janet? Cassie still in his arms, he edged down the corridor desperate to ascertain Jack's condition, but dreading the possible answer.  
  
"Goa'uld!"  
  
"Shit! Everyone back off!"  
  
"Damnit, sir, we don't have time!"  
  
The argument was suddenly halted by a yell of 'CLEAR' and the horrid zap of electrical stimulation.  
  
Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.  
  
Teal'c stood up, suddenly wary, his zat appearing from his pocket as he mapped the hall with his eyes.  
  
As he moved, Daniel finally saw Jack.  
  
He had been moved by the medics, that much was apparent from the stamp of his blood on the carpet, the colours of what remained of his clothes were now a uniform dark red, stiff in places, wet in others. His chest had been bared for examination, blood-stained bandages holding him together. His feet lay awkwardly, as if his ankle bones had been removed. A slip of a bandage proved that they might as well have been. Bile rose in his throat.  
  
But it was the shallow rise and fall of his chest that caught his eye the most. He was breathing, he was alive.  
  
Then who....?  
  
"Cassie?" She had to snap out of it, she had to tell him what was going on. Cassie shook her head, her face white, her mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing came out.  
  
"Damnit! CLEAR!" The thud and crackle of the heart stimulator once again raked across his nerves. "I don't care, sir, if I don't help her, she will die!"  
  
A splash of red that wasn't blood. Janet?  
  
"That's got it, we have a pulse. Grab the stretcher, we have to get moving, now!"  
  
Daniel suddenly became aware of the thud-thud-thud of rotor blades above the house, moments before an Air Force chopper landed in the playground across the road. Neighbours suddenly appeared, some feigning disinterest, others blatantly sticking their noses over fences.  
  
A gurney sped past him, a mop of red hair contrasting with pale skin drawing a desperate cry from Cassie. He held her back, letting the medics do their job.  
  
He watched as another stretcher was hurried down the narrow hallway, and Jack lifted on to it. The unconscious man didn't stir at the sudden movement.  
  
Sam's eyes said everything as she passed him, their moisture reflected the light in the dim hallway causing them to sparkle. She followed the stretcher out the door as if she was chained to it. Only Teal'c's voice called her back.  
  
"MajorCarter, I believe we should secure the area."  
  
She turned back, and Daniel could see the reluctance in her stance. She desperately needed to go with the chopper, but there was something Captain Ferguson and his SFs couldn't detect. She was needed here.  
  
"Sam, I'll go. Cassie needs to be with her Mom. We'll go." She looked at him with both gratitude and worry mingling in her expression.  
  
She didn't answer verbally, but her quiet nod as she turned towards Teal'c had him out the door behind Jack's gurney with an armful of Cassie.  
  
The downdraft of idling rotor blades tossed his hair around and grabbed at his uniform. As he helped Cassie into the tightly packed cabin, the throb of the engines increased in speed, and before he was even seated, the helicopter left the ground taking his stomach with it.  
  
**********  
  
Jack O'Neill woke to the sound of a screaming wind and the beating of chopper blades. Air buffeted his face, flapping the sheet wrapped around his chest.  
  
"Uncle Danny?" The voice was trembling, wavering in horror. "What have I done?"  
  
Cassie. God.  
  
He opened his eyes, desperately attempting to peer above the flapping material at his neck without making any obvious moves. The last he had seen of Cassie, her eyes had been glowing.  
  
As expected by the engine noise, he was in a chopper. Medivac. The whistling wind tearing at his sheet was from a gaping hole in the side of the craft. Cassie was crouched at the far end of the cabin, one hand encased in a hand device, a look of absolute terror on her face.  
  
Daniel stood at the other. One of the lenses of his glasses was cracked and blood ran down the side of his face from a cut above his left eye. He held up a hand.  
  
"Cassie, take it off."  
  
Her eyes flickered to her upheld hand, widening with sudden shock. "No, no, no." She burst into tears.  
  
Jack quietly reached for the straps holding him to the stretcher. There was an absence of medical personnel, and his eyes tracked back to the view of the ground below through the easily man-sized hole. An ache not of his injuries thrummed in his bones.  
  
A second soft click of plastic buckle releasing.  
  
Daniel took a step closer to Cassie. "Cassie." His voice was strained. "I can-"  
  
He didn't get the next word out as a single gunshot shattered the tension and slammed into the young girl spinning her around.  
  
"NO!!"  
  
Daniel was across the floor and collecting her into his arms before Jack managed to unclip the last restraint. He turned, his body protesting loudly, to see the co-pilot peering out from behind her seat, a gun in her shaking hand. The pilot shot an equally terrified look over his shoulder. Oh, god, Cassie. He didn't want to look, he really didn't.  
  
"Daniel?" The archaeologist's head darted up and his horrified eyes caught Jack's.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
"Is she...?" He couldn't say it.  
  
Daniel swallowed, holding her close. "Her arm, Jack, just her arm, she hit her head." His hand was wrapped firmly around the young girl's bicep, and he reached for the stash of medical supplies behind him.  
  
Thank god. But there was still the other to consider.  
  
"Daniel, move away from her."  
  
"Jack-" He didn't get to finish his protest.  
  
A hand wrapped around his throat. Jack saw Cassie look up at Daniel, a confident, slimy smile on her face not of her own making. White flickered in her eyes.  
  
Daniel choked.  
  
"You are exactly the fool I thought you were."  
  
A sound from the co-pilot's seat.  
  
Cassie's response was immediate, she didn't give any chance. Daniel was thrust away, and her hand came up.   
  
Orange shattered the air as Jack ducked and rolled off the stretcher. The co-pilot didn't have a chance to scream as the back of her chair shattered and was forced through the front window behind her, taking her with it. Metal groaned, the tinkling of glass drummed out by the yell of the pilot as the craft suddenly fell sideways, spinning, rolling Jack across the deck.  
  
He had a sudden view of the suburbs below through the hole where the door used to be. His hands sought purchase, his nails scrabbling on metal.  
  
They found nothing.  
  
***********  
  
FIN. 


	9. The Sweat

The Sweat  
  
Part 9 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Blood'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
10 Apr 2004  
  
Daniel struggled to breathe. Now was not the time to pass out.  
  
Cassie had turned away from him, her concentration intent on the pilot at the front of the craft, the hand device raised in threat. She stumbled slightly as the chopper dipped sideways and Daniel took the opportunity to take her down.  
  
He flung himself at her legs, using his weight to hold down the slight girl. A hand grabbed her arm forcing the weapon to the deck. She struggled, but even with the strength of a Goa'uld, she had no purchase, no leverage. She snarled in frustration.   
  
The pilot must have been injured, because the helicopter suddenly tipped sideways, causing Daniel to lose his position. As he fell into a bulkhead, he gripped Cassie with his arms, and tangled her in his legs. She screamed at him.  
  
Movement in the corner of his eye distracted him and he turned just in time to see Jack roll helplessly towards the gaping hole next to him. Oh, god. Shoving Cassie to the deck, he reached out and grabbed one of Jack's flailing limbs.  
  
He caught an ankle.  
  
Jack screamed.  
  
Bones moved under Daniel's hand, he could feel the grinding, but his pressure slowed Jack's momentum, pivoting him, and he was able to grab the edge of the hole and wrap his hands around the bulkhead. His body moved, curling in on itself as it regained its balance. Daniel let go of his foot, and turned his attention back to Cassie.  
  
She spat in his face.  
  
"Pathetic, Tau'ri. You really are pathetic."  
  
He ignored her, and forced her harder into the deck, his knee at her back. Reaching over, he dug into the medical supplies cabinet and found some strong elastic bandage. He wrested the hand device from her wrist, and bound her hand and foot as quickly as he could, doing his best not to focus on who she really was.  
  
"Uncle Danny? Wha...what are you doing?!"  
  
He wasn't going to listen.  
  
He wasn't.  
  
She cried.  
  
He did too. On the inside. The Tok'ra would help. They had too.  
  
The chopper continued to wobble, and through the hole he could see the ground was closer than before. The pilot needed help. Jack needed help.  
  
They all needed help.  
  
Once she was secure, and the bullet wound in her arm wrapped tightly, he bundled her up, and strapped her onto Jack's empty stretcher.  
  
He turned back to the man huddled by the gash in the bulkhead.  
  
**********  
  
Jack was not doing well. But he was alive.  
  
A tap on his shoulder and he looked up to find a worried Daniel hovering over him. He shook his head. The throb of the rotors and the howl of the wind required him to yell to be heard, and he didn't really have the energy. Besides the pilot was more important. A fact punctuated by a sudden drop as the helicopter dipped even closer to the ground. Daniel disappeared in the direction of the front of the cabin.  
  
Jack stared down at the roofs of the houses of his own town. Red, green, grey, even an odd pale blue one, they all flew past beneath him. He could not see in the direction he was going, but he could see where he had been. They were heading towards the mountain. To Cheyenne. His second home.  
  
The view was suddenly interrupted by sleek grey. An F-15 took up pace beside their faltering chopper. He stared at it dazedly. There should be two of them. He could see the pilot, he was that close, and he wondered if the chopper would be shot down if they veered off course.   
  
He wasn't thinking straight.   
  
Someone grabbed his shoulder.  
  
He flinched, his body attempting to turn in defense. He almost lost his grip on the bulkhead, but two strong arms caught him and dragged him to further safety inside. There was pain.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
Huh?  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
A pair of blue eyes appeared in front of his face. Where were Danny's glasses?  
  
"Jack!" He was shaken gently, and the chopper suddenly shuddered. Metal groaned. "Jack, the pilot needs our help."  
  
Huh?  
  
"He's been hurt, Jack. I need your help."  
  
Arms lifted him. More pain. Oh, god. He didn't know if he could take anymore. No more, please.  
  
"Please."  
  
"I'm sorry, Jack." Daniel's voice broke in his ear, but suddenly Jack was sitting upright, pain shooting up and down his legs as Daniel shifted them as gently as he could. Wind tossed his hair more strongly.  
  
There was a mountain coming.  
  
With the cold air in his face came clarity, and something was shoved hard up against his back to provide support. There were controls.  
  
He turned to the left and was confronted by a sight that shook clear whatever remains of fog there were in his brain.  
  
The pilot, a Captain Kennedy by his name badge and rank, was canted sideways, his grip on the helicopter controls white knuckled. A chunk of metal was punctured through his gut. Blood dribbled down his chin. He smiled weakly at Jack, the knowledge that he obviously wasn't going to be the one to land this bird, plain on his face.  
  
Oh god.  
  
Jack stared at the second set of controls in front of him. He'd flown a chopper before, but not recently. His eyes skipped across them, noting the familiar and the not so. Wind buffeted his face as his eyes fell on the pedals. He swallowed, refusing to contemplate them.  
  
"Daniel!" He had to yell above the roar of the wind. "I'm going to need your help." The pilot suddenly coughed, and the craft tipped sideways as his hands twitched on the controls.  
  
Jack grabbed the collective at the side of his seat and the cyclic in front of him and halted the downward slide, pulling the chopper into a more stable climb, his injured side complaining all the way. A glance at Kennedy told him the poor man was losing his fight to stay conscious.  
  
"Daniel!"  
  
The chopper began to turn of its own volition.  
  
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  
  
Without control of the tail rotor, the chopper would plunge into a fatal spin. The foot pedals shouted at him. His ankles throbbed in response.  
  
Daniel's head appeared at his call, but there was no time.   
  
The mountain loomed.  
  
Jack eased his feet over as fast as he could. He put pressure on the pedals.  
  
He tried not to scream, but the pain bubbled forth. Black dots buzzed in his vision.  
  
Someone shook his shoulder and from somewhere he could hear his name being called.  
  
The shadow of the mountain cut off the sun and he snapped to awareness. Fire shot up and down his legs with each movement, bones ground, but it was pain or death.  
  
His hands, white knuckled, shook on the controls.  
  
Wilderness and the odd house. A winding road. A familiar winding road.  
  
He whimpered, blood running down his chin as he bit his lip in two.  
  
He could do it.  
  
His foot slipped in its own blood.  
  
The tail rotor canted sideways and the chopper spun to a new heading, its occupants thrown hard to the right.  
  
Jack screamed in defiance, agony, he no longer knew which, and forced the machine down in the direction of the carpark he knew was below. Blood throbbed in his ears.  
  
He was going to pass out. He could feel it overtaking him. No time. No time.  
  
He found it. Dark grey bitumen, the polka dots of many coloured cars.  
  
He came in low and fast. He screamed to Daniel, praying the man could hang on to something.  
  
Metal hit concrete.  
  
The chopper slid sideways, the tail rotor catching on a fence. Sparks flew. A god awful screeching rent the air.  
  
Jack, suddenly aware that he had taken out the General's car, abruptly found himself airborne, as the chopper slowed and he didn't.  
  
He was flying.  
  
**********  
  
FIN. 


	10. The Tears

The Tears  
  
Part 10 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Sweat'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
10-12 Apr 2004  
  
Daniel heard Jack call his name, and had been on the verge of responding when something else caught his attention.  
  
Cassie's body was shaking.  
  
He staggered over to the prone girl, his balance interrupted by the erratic movement of the chopper as it suddenly shifted sideways, and the battering of the wind that seemed to come from everywhere at once.  
  
There was foam on her lips.  
  
Her eyes were rolled back, seeing nothing. Seizure.  
  
Oh, god.  
  
What should he do?  
  
The chopper suddenly started to spin on its central axis. Jack? Daniel stumbled forward and found the pilot just about unconscious. Jack was lifting his legs. What? Oh god!  
  
Jack's scream as he put pressure on his broken ankles, raked across Daniel's nerves. The chopper stabilised itself momentarily only to start to spin once again as the pain riddled man teetered towards unconsciousness. Daniel grabbed Jack's shoulder and shook him. C'mon Jack. He hadn't realised he would need his feet. Damn.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
The shadow of the mountain cut off the sunlight and Jack suddenly focussed. Sweat ran down his brow, his hands white on the controls.  
  
There wasn't anything Daniel could do.  
  
He glanced back at Cassie. There was something he could do.  
  
Reaching her, he loosened the straps slightly and rolled her onto her side. He dared not attempt to clear her airway, her teeth biting down in seizure sure to make short work of his fingers. She still trembled, but the shakes seemed less persistent. Spittle ran down the side of her face. Her pulse thudded fast under his fingers.  
  
Glancing out the hole in the cabin, Daniel saw the ground leering closer and closer. He quickly checked to see if Janet's stretcher was secure. The chopper spun sideways and threw him into a bulkhead. His head contacted hard metal and he saw stars.  
  
There was a scream of pure defiance and heart rending agony, torn away by the wind.  
  
Daniel heard his name.  
  
And the world slid sideways once again, inverted, and came crashing down on him.  
  
It was damp.  
  
Damp, rough, and it was stabbing him like a thousand large needles. Grit ground between his teeth. There was blood in his mouth.  
  
He spat dirt.  
  
Opening his eyes, Jack was confronted by a mass of green and brown. Bark and leaves. Pine needles? A forest? Another reason to hate trees.  
  
Where the hell was he?  
  
Voices.  
  
The screech of metal.  
  
He lifted his head and the world spun. Oh god, that was not good. He raised a hand and rubbed it across his face, clenching his eyes closed. A burning raked his arm. He glanced down and found a bloody graze amongst shredded material and dressings that ran the length of his arm. It was hardly registering at the moment but he knew soon he would wish for oblivion.  
  
His abrupt movement suddenly set the pine needles beneath him moving. Pain shot up his legs, his spine, oh god, he hurt all over. There was blood on the ground. Bile rose in his throat and he spat onto brown needles. The surface beneath him shifted again.  
  
He froze.  
  
He was on a slope. How he came to rest here, he didn't know, but his position was tenuous at best.  
  
"Jack?!" Daniel?  
  
"Jack?!"  
  
Daniel? His brain struggled to function. Where had he been? What planet was he on?  
  
He looked up to see a figure at the crest of the slope. Backlit by the light of the sky, Jack had to squint to see. Mangled cyclone fencing. Earth? He couldn't think. His head swam. The figure wavered, holding a hand to its head.  
  
"Jack?!"  
  
Daniel almost toppled over, but another figure caught him. Voices murmured, he couldn't understand what they were saying, he was too far away. The figures disappeared. No, come back!  
  
He tried to call out, but his voice was gone, a vague croak, the taste of bile, pine resin, and dirt.  
  
He had to get up there. He needed help.  
  
His body was trembling.  
  
He had the determination. He had the will.  
  
But his body had no more to give, and as he attempted to move his legs, the ground shifted under him. He slid further down the slope. Hot pokers stabbed from his ankles to his spine, and a knife dug into his side.  
  
He cried out. A ragged sound of pain and desperation swallowed by the trees.  
  
His head dropped, needles stuck in his hair. He couldn't give up. His nails clawed pine and ground into the dirt. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.  
  
He had to move.  
  
He had to move.  
  
His body drifted sideways and slid down a little further.  
  
He choked on his own frustration, and anger. Blood and spit ran down his chin leaving trails in the dirt on his face.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
Yelling. His name?  
  
He looked up. A dozen silhouettes stood against the sky. Movement. The soft hiss of pine needles. The soft chatter of worried words.  
  
They were coming.  
  
They were coming.  
  
Oh, thank god.  
  
Sam Carter had never driven the mountain road so fast in her life. She took corners so quickly that at one point she could've sworn she had only had two wheels on the road at a time. Teal'c clung to the door and the dash for dear life, but said nothing.  
  
They were both in a hurry.  
  
Hammond had called, his tone urgent and more high pitched than usual. The chopper was in trouble.  
  
They had a Goa'uld on board.  
  
The pilot had radioed base screaming something about a crazed woman and a weapon capable of ripping a hole in the side of the cabin. There had been screams in the background.  
  
The base, having received orders from General Hammond, reported directly to him. Hammond recognised the probability of a Goa'uld on board and ordered the chopper to the Mountain. SG teams two and five had been ordered up top, and Hammond had called in two F-15s from Petersen. They couldn't afford to let a Goa'uld loose in the population. That chopper was coming down in their control or not at all, regardless of who was on board.  
  
Then the pilot had reported the loss of his co-pilot. The craft had staggered out of control on radar, and for a moment Hammond had thought they had lost it anyway.  
  
The roar of the two F-15s as they tore over Colorado Springs only had Sam slamming the accelerator harder into the floor. They hadn't seen the chopper since it had left Janet's house, but the images of those close to her on board floated in her brain.  
  
It had to have been Cassie. The Colonel had no entry wounds. Though they had seen Goa'uld enter a host through other means. But then she should have sensed it. She cursed, shoving the car down another gear and gunning the engine again.  
  
Her phone rang. A glance at Teal'c and the Jaffa reached down and answered it.  
  
She could hear Hammond's measured tones. Teal'c's face twitched.  
  
He ended the conversation before turning to her, her attention darting between him and the swerving road.  
  
"The helicopter has crashed in the Cheyenne Mountain carpark." His face betrayed little expression, but the worry was in his eyes.  
  
"Damn!" She hit the steering wheel. "Do they know anymore?"   
  
"General Hammond has sent the SGC medical teams to the site. We will be there shortly."  
  
She knew it, but that didn't stop her from expressing her frustration and worry. God forbid anyone from coming down the mountain and getting in her way.  
  
They had to stop at the gate. Security was still a priority. She literally threw her ID at the guard, cursing the delay.  
  
She was waved in, and drove around the bend into a scene of chaos.   
  
The chopper had obviously come in too low and too fast. Gouges in the bitumen where the skids had contacted clearly tracked its path. The tail rotor had attempted some form of origami with the cyclone fence and finding itself snagged, had spun the main body of the craft around in pivot, flinging it into a group of parked vehicles.  
  
Fire retardant foam was everywhere, and a group of emergency workers had set up the 'jaws of life' preparing to break into the mangled cabin.  
  
She shoved the car to the side of the road and was out and running before the engine died.  
  
There were people in uniform everywhere. Medics, the flash of SGC patches. A familiar bald head caught her attention and she hurried over. "General!"  
  
"Major!" He raised his hands to halt her headlong rush. "We're getting them out now."  
  
There was the screech of tortured metal as the cabin was broken open from the side not jammed up against the remains of a car. She forced herself not to run over and attempt to assist, she knew she would only get in the way, but she edged sideways desperate to catch a view of her friends.  
  
Janet was the first one out.  
  
Fortunately the inside of the cabin, though jammed shut, had remained mostly intact. Most likely the tail rotor tangling in the fence, the saviour of the moment.  
  
Medics hovered around the unconscious Doctor, worried glances bouncing back and forth, medical gadgets surrounding her, buzzing and beeping.  
  
Cassie was the second person rescued, quickly followed by a conscious, though wobbly, Daniel Jackson. He caught sight of the General and with a hand to his bleeding head, ignored all attempts to direct him to a waiting gurney, barrelling past the medics to his commanding officer.   
  
"It was Cassie, General. A Goa'uld. I don't know how, but she has one in her." The General signalled Teal'c and the Jaffa made his way towards the stretcher where the young girl was urgently being attended to by the medics.  
  
Daniel suddenly drifted sideways, and would have fallen if Hammond hadn't caught him. The archaeologist swore softly before forcing himself to stand up straight. "Sorry, sir." He suddenly looked around, his expression worried. "Where's Jack?"  
  
"They haven't pulled him out yet." Hammond reached out an arm and made an attempt to direct the stumbling man to the medics hovering behind him, but Daniel refused, turning and heading towards the cockpit of the fallen chopper.  
  
"Where is he?"   
  
Sam caught up with him as the man started yelling out Jack's name. "Daniel!"   
  
The wavering archaeologist nearly fell, the edge of the slope down the mountain side a hairsbreadth away from claiming him, and she had to move quickly to prevent his fall. He was mumbling the Colonel's name over and over. "Daniel?" With the General's help she made to walk him back to the medics, but he suddenly started struggling and she was hard put to restrain him. If it weren't for his head injury she wouldn't have had a chance. Even the General seemed to be straining to hold the man in place.  
  
"Sam! Lemme go!"  
  
"Daniel, you've been injured. You need medical attention."  
  
"But Jack....oh, god, his feet."  
  
"Emergency services will get him out. They are doing their best."  
  
"Sam, Jack was flying the damn thing!" He dug his heels in and pointed to the cockpit, its smashed glass revealing plainly its lone occupant, the pilot, being attended by two medics in preparation of his removal. He was still unconscious.  
  
Sam's blood froze. Oh god.  
  
She glanced at the General. His brief nod sent her running.  
  
Where could he be? If he had been thrown out during the crash, he could be anywhere. Cars marched in lines like a forest of places to hide an injured man.   
  
Goddamnit, Carter, you're a physicist, work it out!  
  
There were shouts of the Colonel's name as Hammond made it back to the medical staff, his orders sending SG-5 branching out amongst the vehicles in search.  
  
She eyed the tracks where the chopper had impacted with the ground, and followed them. She detailed in her mind where in its descent it would have tangled with the fence, where it had suddenly stopped its motion, where a hapless pilot could be thrown.  
  
Her eyes skipped over the edge of the car park and down into the forest below.  
  
Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.  
  
She made it to the top of the slope, her eyes squinting, desperate to see down under the dark trees.   
  
A distant pile of discarded rags.  
  
"Colonel!"  
  
The rags moved.  
  
With a scream to the General, she stepped off the edge.  
  
It had hurt.  
  
It had hurt bad.  
  
The manhandling up the mountain side, the shaking, the jarring, the simple effort of breathing.   
  
But through it all had been familiar voices of reassurance, the occasional touch, guarantees of his safety, and once his stretcher was lifted above the top of the slope, he got a clear view of the Doc, and her daughter, plus an array of familiar faces. Recent events surfaced in his mind as he realised where he was, what was happening, and the fact that he and his team were safe from threat. He finally allowed himself to relax.  
  
He was safe.  
  
Janet was safe.  
  
Cassie would be safe. He promised himself that. Jacob owed him a favour. Damnit, half the frickin' universe owed him a favour. They would get that stinking Goa'uld out of her, and he would gain some immense pleasure by grinding it to death under the heel of his boot.  
  
The medical staff had been busy with him from the moment they saw him. Poking, prodding, wrapping, testing this, testing that, and, yes, that did goddamn hurt, thanks for asking. But the moment they had him secured, they trundled him off towards the infirmary.  
  
Janet was stabilised and was sent along with him and the mob of medics. Daniel also hitched a ride with Jack. Apparently the archaeologist was taking a note or two out of the Jack O'Neill Book of Patient Conduct and wasn't behaving himself in the slightest. A doctor continually hovered behind him as if waiting for the man to fall on his face.   
  
Jack could empathise with that.  
  
As they entered the familiar tunnel and the sun was cut off, Jack O'Neill closed his eyes.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
Hammond looked up from his discussion with Meyers - on how they were planning to remove the mangled wreck from on top of his car - to see Major Carter and Teal'c hurrying over to him.  
  
"Sir, we have a problem." The look on Carter's face was enough to stop him breathing for a moment. "The Goa'uld is missing."  
  
"Missing?"  
  
Teal'c's voice was matter of fact. "It is no longer in Cassandra Fraiser."  
  
"Well, where is it?"  
  
Carter swallowed, worry creasing her brow. "We don't know, sir."  
  
FIN. 


	11. The Final Test

The Final Test  
  
Part 11 of 'An Education'  
  
Sequel to 'The Tears'  
  
By Gumnut   
  
17-20 Apr 2004  
  
It was like a dream and he drifted. There was pain, but it had been his constant companion for so long, it was a familiar foe easily conquered. Through the back of his eyelids, he could trace the changes in light as the bed he was lying on was pushed deeper into the mountain. The sound of quiet talk, the scratch of pen on paper at the security checkpoints, the rumble of the opening and closing lift doors.  
  
At one point a hand touched him and he heard his name. Daniel? He should open his eyes, but he lacked the energy. The crisis was over and it was his turn to rest. Danny could wait until later.  
  
He knew the moment they stepped inside the final elevator down to the SGC, it had a certain odour to it. SG-3, returning from some godforsaken planet covered in goo several months ago, had had to use this elevator to reach the infirmary. Consequently, it had taken several weeks of overtime on the behalf of the janitorial department to scrub and deodorise half the SGC. Unfortunately the elevator defied their best efforts and continued to emit remnants of that awful smell, one reminiscent of the back end of cow with dysentery. SG-3 had not been the most popular team on staff for quite awhile after that.   
  
The hum of the doors closing, the shuffle of feet, perhaps a doctor and a nurse moving about their three patients, Daniel muttering something. A brush against his side as someone shifting position nudged his injury and he flinched.  
  
It had been nothing to start with, nothing. Some Jaffa with a bad attitude had taken a swipe at him with a knife - a nice little number complete with barbs, he was thinking of keeping it as a trophy - and nicked him at waist level. A small shallow cut only requiring a couple of stitches, but Doc had demanded he go home and rest. He thought she was being ridiculous and had promptly slunk off to his office to play with his reports. Janet had been side tracked by the emergency return of SG-8.  
  
But later that morning she had tracked him down and demanded he leave. In fact she had determined to drive him herself, just to make sure he made it home without any of those little side trips of his that usually ended up back at the mountain.  
  
She'd glared at him.  
  
Even stamped her foot, and brought out the Fraiser big guns, ordering him off base.  
  
For crying out loud, it was only a little cut, but at that point he considered that it just might be healthier off base than on.  
  
She had been true to her word and had driven him. Oh, and could she drop by her place on the way? She needed to grab something.  
  
Unfortunately it must have been him she had grabbed, because from the moment they left the mountain he remembered nothing. He awoke in a room with four grey concrete walls and a Goa'uld with some sort of mission involving a hell of a lot of pain on his part.  
  
It had known about the little knife wound, and had used it as an easy torture device until it was no longer small.  
  
Bastard thing. The thought of those eyes glowing white - he squeezed his own eyes shut tighter and forced himself to calm. It was over. Cassie would visit with the Tok'ra briefly, and they'd have that son of a bitch of a snake in jar he could carelessly leave on a hot stove somewhere.  
  
His train of thought was interrupted by an urgent beeping noise from a gadget attached to the unconscious Janet Fraiser lying on the gurney next to him. He opened his eyes to see the grey of the ceiling of the elevator cab and turned his head at the sudden scuffle on his right. His gurney was suddenly pushed sideways, away from Janet's as the doctor and nurse busied themselves around her.  
  
He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but Daniel's hand appeared from behind him and pushed him back down. He looked up to see the archaeologist's concerned face.  
  
"Jack, relax. You've done enough." And to his chagrin, Daniel gently pulled the sheet, that had fallen down a little when he moved, up to his chin, tucking him in like a little kid. Hmph, if he wasn't half asleep, he would have said something, but as it was, his simple attempt at movement had exhausted him and his eyelids were already drooping again.  
  
Something brushed against his arm, and Daniel again touched him, his hand sliding across his shoulder.  
  
For crying out loud, Daniel...  
  
Something bit into his neck.  
  
"You don't know?!"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
The look of worry on Carter's face echoed the roiling in his stomach. He glanced at Teal'c, the edge in the Jaffa's stance, obvious. He took a deep breath before issuing the orders he knew he had too.  
  
"Major, I want the area cordoned off, I want every person who even remotely came in contact with this aircraft and its occupants located, I want that Goa'uld found. No one is to leave the area without my direct authorisation. Is that clear?"  
  
She stood a little straighter. "Yes, sir." But an awkwardness suddenly appeared in her stance, and the worry on her face became even more uncomfortable.  
  
"Yes, Major?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but I am going to have to check you first." She swallowed.  
  
In any other situation he might have smiled. "Go ahead." She approached him, her hands reaching up and tracing the skin on the back of his neck looking for the scar he knew wasn't there. She sighed when her brief search proved negative.  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"It was necessary. I will contact the gateroom and advise them of the situation." He glanced back and forth between the two members of SG-1. "You two keep together on this. We can't afford to lose either of you."  
  
They both nodded and hastily left.  
  
With everyone out earshot he was finally able to swear under his breath.  
  
Thankfully Daniel's world had begun to steady. He still felt the weight of concussion imposed weariness pushing him down, but at least now he could vaguely think straight and his eyesight wasn't bouncing off the walls anymore.  
  
The lift was cramped with the two gurneys and three people. Daniel was standing at the head of Jack's bed, just inside the doors, when the alarm on Janet's monitor freaked out. Both he and Jack were pushed to the side as the doctor started checking her vitals, while the nurse fiddled with her IV.  
  
Daniel took the opportunity to look down at the Colonel. The man had been semi-conscious since they had pulled him off the side of the mountain and at the moment he looked like a cast member wannabe for the next 'Mummy' movie. His splinted feet and ankles stuck out the end of the simple sheet covering him. Daniel's mind suddenly flashed back to the moment he saw those feet shoved down onto a pair of pedals. He hadn't been able to hear the cracking of bone, but the blood welling amongst the broken splints....he closed his eyes.  
  
He was forced to open them abruptly as Jack shifted on his bed, desperately attempting to sit up to peer over at Janet. Daniel hastily reached out and stopped him. For the love of god, the man didn't give up!  
  
"Jack, relax, you've done enough." He reached down and tugged at the covers, tucking them securely around the skeleton of his neck brace.  
  
Jack's expression flickered annoyance, and his dark eyes caught his own. It seemed as if he was about to say something, but exhaustion overcame him and his eyelids drooped, eventually closing under their own weight.  
  
Daniel let his hand rest on the Colonel's shoulder and leaned back against the side of the lift closing his own eyes once again, his weariness, and the pounding pain in his brain, urging the elevator to move faster so he would soon find himself a bed just like Jack's.  
  
Jack screamed.  
  
Daniel flung his eyes open as the shoulder beneath his hand shuddered violently.  
  
Jack was writhing on the bed, his hands clutching at his neck.  
  
"Oh, god. Get it off! Get it off!"  
  
The doctor and nurse, still involved with Janet, spun around as the Colonel tumbled off his gurney, crashing to the floor between the two beds.  
  
Without thinking twice, Daniel dove after him. He hit the ground with a resounding thud and his world destabilised, spinning.  
  
Oh, god.  
  
Beneath the beds, beside the wheels of the two gurneys he found out exactly what could terrify Jack O'Neill.  
  
The man had a hand full of Goa'uld.  
  
A Goa'uld that was apparently attempting to chew into his neck.  
  
And his hand was slipping.  
  
Daniel threw himself at it, reaching between the legs of the bed. He didn't know how it got there, but there was no way, no way he was going to lose another friend, another member of his family, to one of those scum sucking parasites.  
  
Jack was struggling, his body weak, his yells reduced to a desperate whimper. He clung to the creature, its position preventing him from gaining any leverage as his own blood ran down its length onto his hands.  
  
Daniel's fists wrapped around it, his fingernails digging into its black hide.  
  
Jack cried out in pain as the creature struggled harder. To his horror, Daniel could hear its jaws mincing the skin of Jack's neck.  
  
He pulled with everything he had.  
  
With a horrid screech, it came free, slipping through Jack's nerveless fingers. Daniel fell backwards and slammed into the elevator wall, his world lurching sickeningly.  
  
The Goa'uld slipped from his hands.  
  
The snake, taking full advantage of the opportunity, whipped under Janet's gurney faster than he or Jack could react.  
  
At that moment the lift doors opened on the SGC.  
  
Escape.  
  
"Don't you even think about it, you bastard!" As the Goa'uld made a break for it, Jack flung his arm out in its direction, his hand coming down on its tail, snagging it inside the lift.  
  
Daniel yelled as the Goa'uld flipped back on itself in a desperate attempt to free itself, attacking its captor. But Jack's face had become cold, distant.  
  
Calm.  
  
He said nothing as he snagged its head, gripping it in one hand and its tail in the other, bending its long body until there was the sickening snap of vertebrae.  
  
The body fell limp, and Jack tossed it across the hallway just as the lift doors decided no-one was going to disembark and closed quietly.  
  
There was silence in the elevator for a moment, broken only by the soft whimpering of the nurse cowering in the far corner.  
  
Daniel struggled to breathe, his heart in his throat as Jack looked up at him, his dark eyes shining with tears of complete exhaustion.  
  
His voice was barely a whisper. "I've never done enough, Daniel.."  
  
Daniel didn't have the voice to answer.  
  
FIN. 


	12. Graduation

Graduation  
Part 12 of 'An Education'  
Sequel to 'The Final Test'  
By Gumnut  
11/13 Aug 2006

"Damnit, Janet, will you just leave it!"

Janet threw her hands up in exasperation. She stood on his front doorstep, watching him attempting to turn himself around after answering the door. A door his nurse was supposed to be answering and yet said medical professional was nowhere to be seen. "Colonel, why don't you let anyone help you?" He could barely walk, his hands trembling on the walking frame as if they would give any moment under the strain of holding him up. He ignored her and determinedly turned away, making his way, ever so slowly back to the lounge from whence, no doubt, he had just come.

Janet waited a few extra moments at the door for Cassie to catch up, her arms full potted plant. Their visit was a combination of general medical check up and social call. Of the three of them, the colonel was suffering through the longest recuperation. She herself, despite the occasional twinge, had mostly recovered, and though still on light duty, was managing well.

Cassie had been the least affected...physically at least. She no longer needed the sling and the swelling was finally going down. And the goa'uld...her body had rejected it. It had been unable to make a stable connection, so it had fled. Good fortune and luck in the depth of what seemed to be neither.

Sam, Daniel and Teal'c, the general, hell, the majority of the SGC staff had been there for the three of them. A word here, a gesture there, all appreciated. The colonel, of course, hid behind gruffness and humour. She had talked to him, there had been a great deal that needed to be said. But he had said very little.

He had been...difficult.

She worried about him. But she found him very hard to face. She looked at him and she saw the blood, the injury, the pain she had caused him. She heard him screaming in her dreams. He called to her in her sleep, both pleading and determined.

His eyes. Always his eyes.

She sighed.

Cassie joined her at the door, and Janet refocussed on the task at hand. She confirmed quietly the discussion they'd had on the way over. Her daughter frowned a moment, but didn't say anything, slipping into the house quietly.

"Uncle Jack?"

He had paused at the edge of the two steps and was attempting to negotiate them. Both legs were encased in supporting splints and very weak. The fact he was able to walk at all was a miracle of modern medicine and it was going to be a long time before the colonel saw active duty again.

"Uncle Jack? Let me help you."

Hah, refuse her, you stubborn ass. The thought stung her the moment she thought it, but it was true. He was a stubborn ass.

Thank god.

"I'm fine, Cassie." One foot edged down onto the first step.

"No, you're not, and you need help." She caught the man's arm.

"Cassie, please..." His weaker left foot caught on the step and he overbalanced, unable to compensate.

Janet was there immediately, catching his other arm before he could fall. He swore, immediately angered and embarrassed, but she hung on to him. Cassie kept to his other side. Janet nudged the walker out of the way and the two of them slowly walked him over to the couch. He muttered something under his breath as they helped him sit, but didn't say anything else.

Janet sat on the couch beside him and Cassie ran back to the hallway to shut the door and grab her load of gifts.

"You okay?"

O'Neill didn't look at her, the blank screen of the TV suddenly fascinating.

"Colonel?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Janet, I'm fine."

She pressed her lips together. "Really?"

"What do you want me to say? Do you want a sob story where I cry on your shoulder about all the bad things done to me?"

"It would be a start."

"Forget it."

"I just want to help."

"You've done enough."

She froze, a cold chill settling in her stomach. His expression changed immediately from one of defence to one of mortification. "Janet, I'm sorry."

She stood up, straightening her pants. "No, it's fine, sir. You said so yourself."

The expression on his face was just like the one he'd had when she'd hit him with the...

Oh, god, who were they trying to fool?

Cassie bounced back into the room. "Uncle Jack, Sam said you'd..." She drifted off as she encountered the expressions on their faces. "What's wrong?" When neither of them answered, she dropped the welcome home pot plant on the table and moved to her mother's side, catching her hand. "Mom?"

The colonel answered before Janet could open her mouth. "It's nothing, Cassie. Don't worry." He wasn't looking at the girl and the words were very quiet.

Cassie frowned and reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched away as if she'd held a hot poker to his skin. He looked up at the two of them and, for a moment, Janet got a glimpse behind the façade.

And the pain there brought tears to her eyes.

His expression shuttered almost immediately, but it was too late, she had seen. A tear ran down her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Janet-"

"Mom?"

She looked down at Cassie, then back at Jack. The man was frowning at her, that same determination in his eyes.

Damn dogged determination.

"Mom, it wasn't your fault." Cassie was pulling on her arm and the next moment, she found herself back on the couch next to the colonel. Her daughter wormed her way under an arm and hugged her close.

"Knowing it is not your fault and facing the facts of the situation are two different things." She drew in a ragged breath, forcing herself to better control. She wiped a hand across her eyes and cheek. Soggy. "I'm sorry, Colonel."

This time it was he who reached out a hand and she who flinched. She looked up. His expression was controlled as always, but his eyes held a knowledge, almost a confidence. "Not your fault."

"But if I had taken more precaution-"

"Then it would have snaked someone else. Dare I say we were lucky it encountered you? I know of no one else with the strength to do what you did."

"I gave it you!"

"You came to me for help. It was my stupid fault I didn't recognise the signs." He looked away again.

"I tried-"

"You succeeded. The snake is dead, we survived, end of story."

She was speechless for a moment, remembering all the blood, the screams, the pain she had caused. Cassie squeezed her a little tighter.

What she had almost lost.

There had been many, many tears over the past months. Anguish and healing. But still she could not understand how he had done it. Somehow, he had managed to give her the strength when she needed it. He had given her everything, even when he had nothing left to give. How he had managed to do what he had while literally bleeding to death, she had no idea.

There was determination in his eyes even now.

She stared at him. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Keep fighting."

He didn't answer her immediately, his gaze drifting to his hands once again before he looked up and caught her eyes.

He shrugged. "It's what I do."

-o-o-o-

THE END.


End file.
